


Burn

by Zai42



Series: Gore/Kinktober Prompts [15]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Bondage, Do Not Archive, F/F, Gaslighting, Lingerie, Non-Con Clothing Change, Orgasm Denial, Riding Crops, Tit Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 23:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16314866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Nikola has no love for people, but she definitely digs their parts.Prompt: Torture/Lingerie





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> I got...carried away.

Nikola had no fondness for people, but she did very much love their parts. Sometimes, when her mind was clear enough for metaphor, Basira thought of herself and the others as a collection of spare parts, just waiting for Nikola to pick and chose the prettiest pieces to wear herself.

  
Nikola had eyes, now, when she came to visit Basira, and Basira was aware that she should know whose they were, but she couldn't quite place the color. Brown, maybe, or green. They glittered when Nikola looked at her.

  
"Hell- _o,_ Basira!" Nikola crooned, draping her slender, plastic arms around Basira's neck and nuzzling her cheek. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach. "Have you been treated nicely?"

  
Had she? Basira thought probably not - for one thing, she was tied up, her arms cuffed to a hook on the ceiling, pulling her into a taut stretch. It might have hurt, but that was more difficult to track. And she was fairly certain that she would never have agreed to the outfit she was wearing, which meant someone must have dressed her. "Yes," Basira said.

  
"Lovely!" Nikola said, pulling back but keeping her hands clasped behind Basira's head, one of her legs popping in a romance novel kick. "Your friends are not _nearly_ as understanding as you are. It's so nice to know _somebody_ around here appreciates me." Nikola--pouted. Maybe. Basira wasn't certain she had lips.

  
"Can I see them?" Basira asked. "Can I see...see..." Nikola laughed while Basira struggled to think of names, or at least _identities,_ however oblique. "...the Archivist," Basira finally said, though she couldn't remember why she'd been trying to think of that in the first place.

  
"Maybe soon," Nikola said. She ran the back of one hand down Basira's cheek, the touch a tender mimicry of affection, then stepped back to take in the sight of her.

  
Basira had never cared much one way or the other what people thought of her body, but Nikola was _different._ It was _important,_ what Nikola saw in her, for reasons that danced just beyond Basira's comprehension. She just knew it mattered. She squirmed slightly under the scrutiny, then remembered suddenly that she had arms and that they ached and stopped.

  
"Did people tell you how pretty you are, Basira?" Nikola asked, tapping a thoughtful finger against her face.

  
"Maybe," Basira said, frowning as she considered it. "I think so. Some of them, sometimes."

  
Nikola pressed her palms flat against her stomach, tracing her abdominal muscles before dragging her hands higher, splaying her fingers along Basira's ribcage and pushing up her breasts. She slipped a fingertip beneath the underside of the glittering scrap of fabric that Basira wore, pressing firmly into the flesh there. She let out a pleased sigh. "You're so _soft,"_ she purred; she pulled back, carefully replacing Basira's costume where her hands had made it ride up. Then, almost as an afterthought, she tugged the already plunging neckline a bit lower.

  
"I didn't even think about how hard this body was, when I took it," Nikola said, sounding pouty again. She gestured at herself, her androgynous mannequin body, the plastic making up her chest flat and svelte. Basira thought it was just fine--thought it might remind her of someone, maybe, someone all sharp edges and hard lines, and the way that sharpness had felt pressed against her, how that hardness had melted for her and only for her--

  
By the time Basira realized she'd been saying all that out loud, Nikola had stalked behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, laughing delightedly. "Do you miss her so badly?" Nikola asked.

  
"Do I miss...who?"

  
Nikola's hands ghosted over her torso. "Never mind, pretty thing." She fondled Basira's tits through her bra, her palms sliding over the exposed tops of her breasts before dipping beneath her neckline and shoving the fabric out of the way to expose her more fully. Basira made a startled noise at the back of her throat. "Hmm?" Nikola said, gently tracing Basira's nipples with her thumbs. "Something wrong?"

  
Basira sucked in a shaky breath. She didn't think she should feel this scrambled just from Nikola's feather-light touches, especially when she only barely remembered it was _her_ body Nikola was touching, but somehow her nerves had lit up beneath her cool, impersonal hands. "You're...touching me," Basira said, haltingly, trying to drag her thought process along with her words. "I--"

  
Nikola's fingers _twisted,_ sharp and cruel, and Basira _burned,_ a stuttering moan at her lips. "You wanted me to," Nikola reminded her. "Don't you remember? You told me about how much you _love_ all my sharp angles." And she laughed, light and airy in Basira's ear.

  
"Oh," Basira said, though that didn't quite sound right. It was difficult to think, with all her skin sparking.

  
Nikola let go of her nipples and rubbed them in little soothing circles, staring avidly as they hardened. "Just look at you," she said. "What does it feel like?" She pinched at a nipple, less roughly than she had, but still enough to make something in Basira's stomach swoop.

  
Basira squirmed, arching forward to try and ease some of the burn. "Hot," she ground out. "It's..."

  
"Does it hurt?" A casual twist, like she were toying with something that didn't have nerve endings singing through it.

  
"Yes," Basira gasped.

  
"Does it feel good?" A tug, insistent and slow and Basira had to sway forward on her tiptoes with the pull of it, a whine building in her throat.

  
"Y-yes."

  
_Think,_ dammit, she had to _think,_ but Nikola had slipped a thigh between her legs and all she wanted to do was grind against it. The soft press of plastic made her realize with a start that she'd utterly soaked the sequined panties she'd been given. A sharp slap to her left breast brought her out of her thoughts with a startled cry.

  
"Pay attention to me," Nikola ordered sulkily.

  
"S-sorry," Basira said. Had she stopped? She couldn't remember. Certainly all she could be sure of was Nikola's presence, her hands and her legs and her maddening touches.

  
"Tell me what you want," Nikola said. Her hands had splayed out to grope roughly at Basira's tits, fingers sinking into flesh.

  
"I...want..." _I want you to let me go. I want to see my friends. I want you to stop. I want you to keep going. I want you to do something worse._ "I...I don't know."

  
Nikola smiled. Basira didn't see it, but she was sure she smiled. "Of course not," Nikola purred. "Don't you worry, pretty thing, I'll take care of you."

  
And suddenly she was gone from Basira's back, and Basira stumbled, a little surprised at how much she had been relying on Nikola holding her up. For a moment she stood, panting, twisting her hands in their bonds, top bunched up below her tits and her thighs wet with want. Then something pressed between her legs, dipping into her panties and sliding slick against her clit. Basira's breath hitched, and it moved to rub between her sopping lips; it didn't move like it was trying to make her come, but Basira's hips rolled against it anyway as it slipped against her soaked cunt, and as it pulled away she let out a weak, wanting moan.

  
When Nikola stepped into her line of vision, she was laughing and holding a riding crop. The leather at the end of it was shiny-wet, and Basira felt as if she should know why, but the pieces refused to slot together. "You're so much fun," Nikola said. "Now stand up nice and straight for me."

  
Basira did her best, but Nikola had to guide her anyway, nudging her into place, making minute adjustments to her stance, pressing against her spine to make her arch her back.

  
"There you go!" Nikola trilled, once she was finally satisfied. "Now, try not to _move_ too much."

  
The first sharp smack of the riding crop against her breasts made Basira cry out, and Nikola was relentless. She didn't ease into anything, hard and rough right from the start, her blows unerringly hitting their mark. Basira was burning within seconds, her skin a hot, angry red, her nipples peaked and aching. And it lasted far longer than seconds.

  
When Nikola stopped, Basira realized she had been screaming only because she stopped with a sob. Nikola stepped forwards and Basira swayed gratefully into her arms, expecting kindness and comfort from her sharp-edged beloved, and instead gasping in pain as Nikola yanked sharply on her aching nipples. Her plastic fingers pressed cruelly against the welts she'd raised, smearing the thin lines of blood she'd drawn. "Look how pretty you are, now!" Nikola singsonged, flicking the pad of her thumb over a nipple.

  
Something wet ran down the arms stretched over her head; something wet blurred her vision and made her eyes feel hot and achy; something wet rolled down her thigh, insistent and scalding. _Don't beg this fucking thing,_ a small voice whispered in the back of Basira's fogged mind. It didn't sound like her voice, and it only made the burning worse, that she couldn't remember whose voice it _did_ sound like.

  
"Do you need something?" Nikola asked, batting her eyelashes up at her. Her touches had softened, massaging Basira's tits in slow, easy movements, her thigh just barely pressed to Basira's achingly empty cunt.

  
Basira took a deep breath through her nose, smelling sex and blood and plastic in the air. _You want to come,_ she thought. _You want to come and you **don't** want to beg this thing and you want to leave, you want to **leave,** remember you want to leave._ "No," Basira said slowly, carefully. "Thank you, Nikola," she made herself add.

  
"No...?" Nikola asked, rolling the word around in her mouth as if it had displeased her. "Hmm. Well, in that case."

  
She stepped away and it took painful effort for Basira to still her hips, to not go chasing the press of Nikola's thigh. Nikola vanished from her line of sight and Basira braced for something awful. Instead the scrap of fabric bunched beneath her tits was cut away from her, and Nikola massaged away the red marks it had left on her rib cage. "Now then," she said, her voice pitched lower than Basira had ever heard it, "let's get you into something nice."

  
The rope was soft and silken, slipping easily over Basira's skin, between her breasts, and Nikola tugged it tight and tighter, though trying to look at the specific knots she used made Basira's head spin. When she was done, she circled Basira slowly to survey her handiwork, then slapped lightly at her tits as she spoke. "There you are! Now you just stand there and look pretty for me," she said. "I think next time I come visit, I'll bring some lovely toys for you, would you like that?"

  
Basira didn't know the answer anymore, the fog and fury in her mind struggling for dominance. _Yes. No. Fuck you. Fuck me. Why didn't you make me come?_ "I...toys," Basira managed, weakly. Her voice broke as one of Nikola's slaps caught a welt.

  
"Oh yes. Maybe if you're _very_ good, we can pierce you! Wouldn't you like that, pretty thing?"

  
"I..."

  
Nikola tugged once more on the knot sitting between Basira's breasts, and the ropes squeezed tighter. Basira whimpered. "Of course you would! You love it when I play with you, don't you, Basira? Just look how wet I've made you."

  
_She's made me wetter,_ Basira thought, but she didn't know who she meant.

  
"Good girl. Don't you worry, I'll be back soon."

  
And Basira was alone again, breath coming in shaking heaves. She glanced down at herself, at her bound tits and her sequined panties gone transparent from how drenched they were. She didn't think she would have agreed to this, but knowing had become so difficult. She would just have to wait until Nikola came back to explain things again.


End file.
